


Mutts and Smut

by chris_edward (hwshipper)



Series: The Chris 'Verse [21]
Category: No Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2019-05-24 07:05:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14949893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hwshipper/pseuds/chris_edward
Summary: Summary: The story of Gavin and Dean. Part 1: they meet. It started, of course, with a poodle.Excerpt: Dean would have liked to find an excuse to keep talking, but it was too late; the tall man headed out the door, his poodle by his side.





	1. A Yipping Woolly Ball

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: Bringing expertise on dogs and so much else, srsly_yes
> 
> Gavin and Dean are minor recurring characters in the Chris 'verse, most notably appearing in [ A Dog's Life](https://archiveofourown.org/works/72922/chapters/96619). This story is primarily set in the Chris 'verse during the Chris/Edward story [parts 2](https://archiveofourown.org/works/68183/chapters/89974) and [3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/68183/chapters/89974)
> 
> House and Wilson push their way into chapters 2 and 3 of this fic.

Chris squinted through the car windscreen. "Where the hell is this damn, new dog place?"

"Linus said it's where the _old_ dog place was," Edward said, with an air of trying to be helpful.

"Edward, I've lived around here my whole life and I've never known there was _any_ dog grooming parlor in this neighborhood." Chris drove on, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

"I guess if you don't have a dog, no reason to," Edward sounded a little wistful. "Did you not have a dog when you were a kid? We did--Lily, a Jack Russell terrier, lovely dog."

"No, never had any pets." Chris was immediately edgy, not wanting to talk about Edward's family. Edward's spiteful wife, mad sister, and homophobic parents might stray into the conversation. "Petted a dog when I was eight, got a sneezing fit and came out in a rash."

"Oh. Oh dear." Edward reached out and touched Chris's shoulder lightly.

Chris rounded a corner, and there it was. A shop front, set a little way back from the road with a small parking lot in front. An old, worn sign, _Mrs Morrison's Dog Grooming_ , had been taken down and was propped up against a Dumpster. A young man with spiky blond hair was up a stepladder, busy painting the window frame.

Chris parked the car, and they both got out.

"Hey," Edward hailed the guy painting. "Welcome to the neighborhood." 

"Thank you! How nice of you to visit." The young man beamed broadly, stuck his paintbrush back in the pot, and slithered down the ladder. He was slenderly built, wore paint-splattered blue jeans, and had blue eyes plus a pierced eyebrow. Chris guessed he was in his early twenties.

"My name's Chris. I'm a friend of Linus." Chris introduced himself.

"And I'm Edward," Edward added.

"Chris, Edward, hello, great to meet you, I'm Dean." The words gushed out as Dean shook their hands. Close-up, Chris could see Dean's hair was bleached blond, with darker roots. "And this is J.R."

Chris nearly jumped out of his skin as a small, yipping, woolly ball came bounding out of the shop and came to a sniffing halt one inch from his pants leg. He didn't quite know what to do, but Edward crouched down, and the ball instantly turned its attention to him, brimming with instant love and affection. 

"He's adorable," Edward said indistinctly through fur.

"Isn't he." Dean smiled indulgently. "Hey, Chris, um, we did meet once before." 

Chris blinked, peered and frowned. 

"It was quite a few years ago," Dean added. "At my aunt's shop, in Boston."

A dim and distant memory pricked Chris's mind. "With Linus?" 

He thought, but didn't say, _huh--didn't Linus--_

"Yeah," Dean agreed solemnly. "But here I am now, in New Jersey, about to open my own grooming shop! And you should meet Gavin." He raised his voice. _"Gavin!_ We have visitors!"

A tall man with straggly dark hair and bristles on his chin emerged from the shop. He was more heftily built and older than Dean; mid-twenties, similar age to Edward, Chris estimated. He wore a black shirt, jeans to match, and was accompanied by a black poodle which came fully up to his waist. Chris was surprised, he hadn't known poodles got that large, he thought of them as small dogs.

"Hey," the dark haired man said, his voice quiet and very gruff. He tipped his head to his left side as he spoke, looking at them through beady light brown eyes. 

"Chris, Edward, Gavin. Gavin, Chris, Edward." Dean did the introductions. "And this is Lulu."

He was referring to the poodle, which had headed straight for Chris and put its nose in his crotch. Chris tried to keep still, and eyed the dog warily. 

"She's just saying hi," Dean assured him.

"I guess you've got a lot of dogs?" Edward asked. Chris inched backwards; Lulu inched forward with him.

"Three," Dean said with pride. "Lulu, J.R. and a puppy, Doris."

"I'm not really a dog person," Chris admitted, trying to push Lulu's nose away.

Dean raised a steel-tipped eyebrow; Gavin stuck out his lower lip. They both looked completely nonplussed.

"I love dogs, though," Edward hastened to add.

"Anyway, Linus sent us here to say hi. If you need any contacts with local repairmen, subcontractors, plumbers, decorators, anyone, I can put you in touch with people. Okay?" Chris hastened to pull his hand away from Lulu, who had started to lick his palm, and flipped a business card at Dean. 

"And we'll see you around," Edward said cheerfully, plopping J.R. onto the ground. "Linus said he would throw a party for you, once you'd settled in a bit."

"Linus is very kind," Dean burbled. "He's done so much already."

Gavin tilted his head to one side again, and glared. Edward didn't see, his glasses fairly falling off his nose as he said goodbye to J.R., but Chris couldn't miss it. Hmm, apparently Gavin was not so enamored of Linus, his big-hearted best buddy, as Dean obviously was. Maybe because of-- 

_"Atchoo!"_ A sneeze interrupted his thoughts. Dammit! These dogs!

"Oh dear, we had better go," Edward said hastily, ushering Chris back toward the car. "Shall I drive, Chris?--Bye Dean, bye Gavin, we'll see you around."

They drove away, and Chris's sneezes subsided quickly.

"They seemed very nice," Edward remarked idly, rolling down the window. 

Chris breathed the fresh air thankfully. "Bit of an odd couple, though." 

"Or _Dog Couple_ ," Edward observed with some glee.

"I'm not sure they're actually a couple," Chris grinned, but couldn't help adding, "Linus called them business partners, who only met each other recently, up in Boston. Dean's got the dog grooming skills and Gavin's got the cash to invest. Something like that. Wonder how they met."

"Bet you anything it had something to do with dogs," Edward declared.

* * *

It started with a poodle, of course.

Dean was humming as he bustled around tidying the shop when the door bell jangled; customer. He turned toward the entrance to find a tall dark-haired man wearing a belted beige trench coat standing there. By his side was a large, black, standard poodle with a slightly overgrown kennel clip.

"Hello!" Dean moved forward to greet the new arrivals. "Welcome to _Pearl's Pooch Parlor,_ the perfect place for all your dog grooming needs! How can I help you?"

"Lulu here managed to roll in a puddle of oil this morning, and the dish soap just isn't cutting it," the man said, his voice deep and gruff. 

"No problem." Dean crouched to look at the dog. "Hello, Lulu! Aren't you beautiful?"

"Even more beautiful when she hasn't got oil on her fur," the man said.

"We'll soon deal with that. You've picked a quiet day, fortunately, I can give her a bath straight away." Dean chattered on for a minute, outlining services and prices. 

He soon had Lulu covered in soap suds. Most owners didn't stick around to watch their pets get groomed, but this guy--Gavin, his name was--apparently took it for granted that he would. He sat on a stool, tipped his head on one side and watched intently. 

Lulu had some long hairs in her ears, which Dean plucked out at the end to stop them trapping dirt. Lulu whined a bit, but let him do it. Gavin muttered, "That was good. She never lets me do that."

"All part of the service." 

"Glad to see what I'm paying for." Gavin handed over bills. "I don't have much truck with all this fancy grooming stuff usually."

"No? Poodle owners usually love it," Dean declared, ringing up the sale. "I have a poodle cross myself. He loves being groomed."

"What kind of cross?" Gavin asked.

"I was told he was a Cockapoo--cocker spaniel and poodle--but I think he's got all sorts in him. Hey, wanna meet him?" Without waiting for a reply, Dean shut the cash register and headed to the back door. He opened it and called, "J.R.!"

A small woolly dog came bouncing in from the yard, straight toward Lulu. Lulu barked in surprise at the newcomer, who was barely half her height, then the two of them got to mutual appreciative sniffing.

"Cute," said Gavin. 

"Poodles are great," Dean said fervently. "My aunt Pearl had a standard poodle, years ago, I remember playing with him when I was a kid. Think it gave me a soft spot for them."

"Pearl as in _Pearl's Pooch Parlor_? She's your aunt?" Gavin raised an eyebrow and grinned.

"That's right. She's been a groomer here in Boston for years. I was always the other dog-lover in the family."

They watched the dogs play-fight for a few minutes.

"Well, I'd best be off. Good to meet you, Dean," Gavin said presently. "Maybe I'll be back if she decides to roll in oil again. Lulu! C'mon."

Dean would have liked to find an excuse to keep talking, but it was too late; the tall man headed out the door, his poodle by his side.

They passed another man and his dog in the doorway. Dean immediately forgot the poodle guy and beamed at the sight of a regular customer, a small, white West Highland Terrier puppy. "Hello, Hector! What have you been up to?"

* * *

The next day was Sunday, which was Dean's day to volunteer at the local animal shelter. He spent a couple of happy hours helping feed and water its current canine population, and jawing with a little gaggle of college girls who also helped out at the shelter at weekends. They had adopted him some time ago as their _Gay Best Friend_ and delighted in setting him up on hideously inappropriate blind dates with college boys they knew.

"How did it go last week?" one of them asked over coffee, of the last such date.

"Oh, fine," Dean said automatically. "I mean... I don't think we'll see each other again. But it was a nice evening."

It had been a boring evening. Scorn had positively dripped off the college boy after he'd found out Dean was a high school dropout. Dean didn't care about that, but he did care about missing out on a good time happening some place else. He wondered, for the thousandth time, what on earth his gal pals would think if they knew what his sex life was _really_ like...

He took a bunch of dogs out for some exercise; two long leashes, three dogs on each leash, and JR running free. The beach was nearby, and Dean enjoyed being dragged along the sand by so many energetic animals. 

But suddenly J.R. was nowhere to be seen. As Dean squinted around, the tone of the barking around him changed, and the next minute a newcomer appeared in the middle of the doggy mass; a large black standard poodle whose ears Dean had been plucking the day before.

* * *

"Nice to be clean again, right?" Gavin said to Lulu as they walked down toward the ocean. "No rolling in any oil for a while, okay?"

"Ruff!" Lulu pulled at the leash. 

"Although you'd like to go back and see that J.R., wouldn't you?" Gavin crouched to release the leash from the collar.

"Ruff!"

"Or the guy behind the counter," Gavin muttered. 

"Ruff," Lulu said firmly, and ran away.

Gavin walked slowly, his thoughts a slow stream of consciousness about the guy behind the counter. 

Dean. Dog groomer, cute. Pierced eyebrow--real turn-on. Must be gay, maybe, probably. He could have just asked, but then he wasn't used to asking. Or telling. He should have just asked, for Christ's sake. But then, what if he'd caused offense...

Suddenly a small brown furry ball appeared and ran at top speed into his shins. Gavin stopped in surprise, and stooped to pick it up. "J.R.!" 

He looked up across a sand dune, and was taken aback at the sight. Lulu, surrounded by six dogs of assorted shapes and sizes, lots of mutual sniffing in progress. The six dogs were on two long leashes and on the other end was the guy from the salon. Dean.

"Hey. They're not all yours," Gavin said in greeting, hugging J.R. into his chest.

"No," Dean agreed, raising his voice above the barking. "They're from the local shelter, over the road. I volunteer there."

"Ah." Gavin pondered this. "Cool."

"D'you live around here?" Dean asked. 

Gavin hesitated, ruffling J.R.'s fur, not sure how much to share. "Kind of."

Dean continued to look enquiringly at Gavin. Gavin turned and gestured back toward the road. A squat, old, blue VW camper van sat in the distance.

"See the van? That's where I live."

"You live in a van?" Dean started to walk in its direction, dragging dogs along with him. "How exciting!"

Gavin wasn't much used to visitors, but figured there was no harm in Dean seeing his home. "Here, lemme help. Gimme some dogs."

He took a leash and together they walked back to the road. Gavin unlocked the side door of the van and threw it open to show the interior. 

He was relieved to find he'd left it neat, but then, he'd been trained to be neat. The van had a double bunk at the back concealing clothes storage beneath, and a cooking and eating area to the front. The driver and passenger seats were screened off by a sliding window, with a curtain drawn back. Water, fridge, gas bottles and other necessities were cunningly stowed away in efficient cupboards. A large dog basket rested on one half of the bunk.

"You live here!" Dean was clearly enchanted. He peered all around the interior. "It's so cozy! And so clever the way it all fits together."

"I'd ask you in for a beer, but there's not really room for all the dogs," Gavin tried to pitch his tone as light-hearted but genuine.

"Of course. Um, what do you do, Gavin, that you live in a van?" Dean didn't beat around the bush.

"I'm not doing anything at the moment." Gavin considered what to say. "I was in the Marines until six months ago. Medical discharge."

"Oh." Dean looked embarrassed, but apparently couldn't stop asking questions. "You left the Marines and moved into a van?"

"I went home to Mom and Dad in Arizona, and found there was nothing there for me, 'cept Lulu," Gavin said flatly. "She's the family dog, but I was always her favorite. I figured I'd go live on the road for a while and take Lulu for company. She loves cars. So long as there's a window open."

"J.R. loves putting his head out of the car window too." Dean nodded with understanding. 

The shelter dogs chose that moment to form a small whirlwind of chaos around both Dean and Gavin. Several minutes later, once disentangled, Dean headed off back to the shelter with an apology and a shout of, "Perhaps we can do that beer sometime?"

"Sure," Gavin called back, pleased. He shut the van door and walked back to the beach with Lulu.

He would definitely think of Dean the next time he got laid. Tonight, perhaps.

* * *

It was _so_ time to get laid again, Dean decided. Meeting Gavin had definitely sparked his libido.

Dean returned the shelter dogs, and went home with J.R. He spent the evening getting ready; tight pants, silk shirt, shiny shoes. He replaced the straight steel barbell he habitually wore in his eyebrow with a curved titanium one. When it was late enough, he settled J.R. down in his basket in the shop with his favorite chew toy, and headed out to drive to his local pick-up joint.

He didn't go into the bar, didn't fancy the loud music and thick smoky air within. Not tonight. He didn't need to go in. 

Dean didn't need a shrink to tell him why he liked to hang out in a parking lot at night in tight pants, waiting for strange older men on the lookout for relief. It was all down to the first sexual experience he'd ever had, aged sixteen, with an older man...

...No point thinking about that right now. Dean undid a button on his shirt and lolled against a wall.

He didn't have long to wait. A man in a cowboy hat and boots with spurs appeared from a doorway and drawled, "Hey Deano, was hoping I'd see you here tonight."

"Ditto." Cowboy Hat guy was a regular out in the lot. Dean had no idea what his name was, and didn't care. "Motel?"

"I'll drive." Cowboy Hat led the way across the lot toward a black SUV that Dean had been in before. 

As they walked, Dean stared in surprise; parked next to it was a camper van which was familiar in a different way. Gavin's camper van! How weird. 

Dean peered in the front window as he walked past, and got a shock; Lulu was lying curled up on the passenger seat. The curtain was drawn across the window to the back. She jumped up when she saw him, put her paws up against the windshield and barked.

"Hey, easy, Lulu," Dean tried to soothe. "Now, where's Gavin? He can't be far away if he's left you here."

As he wondered, Lulu barked again, and the side door of the van cranked open. Out strutted a peacock of a young man in tight jeans that left absolutely nothing to the imagination, and an even tighter T-shirt. He was wiping off the smirk on his mouth with the back of his hand.

And in case Dean was still in any doubt as to what he'd interrupted, out stepped Gavin, still zipping up his fly. He tilted his head to the left as he peered toward them, and his eyes opened wide as he spotted Dean.

Dean didn't know what to say. He didn't know whether to be more embarrassed by having inadvertently disturbed Gavin mid-blow job, or being discovered about to climb into a car with Cowboy Hat guy.

"Hey, Gavin," Dean managed to croak, and then his nerve broke; he scuttled toward the SUV and escaped inside. Cowboy Hat shut the door behind him, and got in the driver's seat.

"Friend of yours?" Cowboy Hat asked, turning the ignition.

"Kinda," Dean said feebly.

* * *

"Friend of yours?" the blond boy asked, combing his fingers through his hair.

"Kinda," Gavin said feebly, shushing Lulu and wondering where his hard-on had just gone. "You know him? Dean?"

"Oh yeah, Deano's a regular here." The blond boy shrugged. "He likes fat old guys, they can't get enough of him."

_He likes fat old guys_. Gavin knew there was no accounting for taste, but Christ. He would never have guessed.

"You wanna finish off?" the blond boy asked, as Lulu settled quietly down on the driver's seat.

Gavin was about to decline, then thought of 'Deano' getting into the SUV. He shut the driver's door on Lulu, and opened up the side of the van again. "Yeah, alright."

* * *

Next day, Gavin found himself heading towards _Pearl's Pooch Parlor_. He took Lulu past some puddles of mud along the way, but Lulu turned up her nose up and remained irritatingly clean. Gavin shrugged this off and went in the store anyway.

Dean was there behind the counter; his cheeks reddened as Gavin stepped through the door. He looked reassuringly normal compared to last night, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, and with the usual small steel pole stuck back in his eyebrow.

"Hey, Gavin," he said. 

"Lulu could do with a clip," Gavin made an excuse. 

Dean visibly relaxed as Gavin hoisted the poodle onto the counter. He ran his hands through Lulu's coat, fluffing up fur. "Yes, it's getting a bit long, especially for the nice weather we're having at the moment. Kennel clip, or do you want something a bit different?"

"Keep it basic." Gavin pondered. "Short around the face and tail. Longer everywhere else."

"You got it." Dean looked pleased. "Hey, it's nice to get to clip Lulu. Even though you don't go for the show clips, she's a poodle after all. Gotta keep up appearances." 

Gavin sat on a stool and watched Dean get to work. "Just out of interest, what do you mean, show clips?"

"Oh, there's all sorts," Dean said airily. "Continental, English Saddle, Sporting, depends on the show. I do a variety of clips."

"How'd'ya learn this kind of stuff?"

"From an expert." Dean beamed. "My Aunt Pearl who runs this shop was a dog handler for years, learned on the job. At first she wouldn't let me do a thing except sweep fur off the floor. But then she kind of took me on as an apprentice. Washing and grooming, nail clipping, ears, conditioning, everything. You practice on all kinds of breeds until you can cope with anything that walks in the door."

"Cool." Gavin wondered if they were going to talk about... _it_. He figured not. They'd go on being polite to each other, and that would be that--

"I'm sorry about last night," Dean blurted out. "That I disturbed you, I mean. I just recognized Lulu and... I"m sorry."

Gavin was startled. "Nothing to be sorry about. I--I was just a bit surprised to see you there."

"Oh!" Dean raised both eyebrows. "Really?"

"Yeah." Gavin hesitated, then plumped for _honest_ and spoke his mind. "I thought you were a naive small-town kid who hadn't figured out he was gay yet."

"And I thought you were too busy not asking and not telling to get your head out of your ass and realize who you were," Dean countered.

"Seems we don't know each other that well yet," Gavin said, and at the _yet_ , Dean beamed broadly.


	2. Eyebrows and Eyesight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: The story of Gavin and Dean. Part 2: They get to know each other better, and Dean gets a shock.
> 
> Excerpt: "What's with the eyebrow piercing?" Gavin asked, emboldened later after a second beer. "How long have you had it?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guest appearance from my two favourite doctors.

It was Sunday morning, which meant extra time to lounge in bed, with Edward warm and cozy beside him. Chris luxuriated in semi-sleep until a hand snaked through the covers to rest on his hip. Having Edward's fingers so close to his groin made tingles start to creep up his legs, until Chris woke fully and rolled over to swamp Edward in his arms.

They were naked and wriggling comfortably against each other, all very nice, no hurry, when the phone rang on the nightstand; Chris's side. He would have left it ringing, but Edward twitched, then stopped moving, waiting. Chris rolled his eyes, then rolled over to pick up.

"Hey," he said, letting sleep show in his tone.

"Hey, Chris, It's Dean," gabbled a nervous voice. Chris took a few seconds to place the name; Dean, one of the new dog guys they'd met a week ago.

"Dean, hey, how are you?"

"Okay. Look, I'm sorry to disturb you, hope this isn't a bad time?"

In his place, Linus would have said _Actually I'm just in the middle of having sex, I'll call you back_. Chris opened his mouth to make a more anodyne excuse, but Edward shook his head: _keep talking_.

"No, that's fine, what's _up_?" Chris said, and his voice went up close to a squeak on the last word, as Edward burrowed under the covers and took Chris's cock in his mouth.

"Gavin and I were wondering if you could recommend an electrician." Dean chattered for a minute about how they didn't trust the wiring in the shop, there was a light fitting where the bulbs blew soon after replacement, hardly any time at all. Chris tried to listen with half an ear, while stifling the gasps and moans he wanted to make as Edward sucked and licked with a most expert tongue.

"Yeah, no problem," Chris eventually managed to get a word in edgewise, and gave him an electrician's name. "Can't--look up his number right now---but he'll be in the phone book--tell him-- _ugh_ \--I sent you."

"Of course, thank you so much," Dean gushed. Chris was all ready to say a relieved goodbye, but Dean went on, "And there was one other thing. We're finding it really quite cramped living upstairs, and were thinking about building an extension out back, not now, but in future maybe, we thought we could talk it through with someone who knows about this stuff and see what they think. Do you happen to know an architect we could talk to?"

Chris couldn't resist, and raised his voice. "Actually, Edward's an architect."

There was a pause below, then Edward came wriggling up the bed with raised eyebrows.

"I'm sure he wouldn't mind talking to you," Chris went on. "He's right here."

Chris held out the phone. Edward shook his head, mouthing _I'll get you_ , and took it. "Hello? Hi, Dean, it's Edward. What's _up_?"

And Chris took his revenge, snaking downwards to grab Edward's cock and tickle his balls. Edward went on chatting to Dean, but writhed madly and hardened in a most appreciative way as Chris ducked his head down to taste. Uh huh, Edward was just beautiful and awesome, he would never get fed up of this as long as he lived--

"It's a deal, I'll see you tomorrow after work, bye," Edward said dimly above, and Chris emerged from the bedcovers to see Edward tossing the phone to one side.

"You," Edward said with fond mock-aggravation.

"You," Chris echoed, and came up to kiss Edward on the mouth. They squirmed up against each other again, cock skating against cock. A minute of that was enough for Chris to come, pressed up hard against Edward's chest. Edward groaned and bucked, and did the same.

"You're gonna go see the Dog Couple tomorrow?" Chris muttered a bit later in Edward's ear, as they lay in semi-conscious stupor together.

"Yeah. They must be a couple, by the way," Edward murmured back. "They're living together above the grooming parlor with only one bedroom. And three dogs." Beat. "I do wonder how they got together."

* * *

Following their unexpectedly graphic glimpses into each others' sex lives, Dean and Gavin started to hang out together. They enjoyed long rambling conversations in the grooming parlor, in the animal shelter, in the camper van, and in favorite Boston bars and cafes. They drank beer and smoked weed and talked dogs.

It was good. It was fun. It was flirtatious, too; casual bumps of shoulders and touches of hands; eye contact held, then bashfully broken.

Neither tried to put the moves on the other; Gavin suspected their encounter in the parking lot had affected them. They had both become unduly cautious. But Gavin found himself choosing not to hang out at the parking lot in evenings anymore, opting instead for jacking off to an image of a spiky blond-haired blue-eyed eyebrow-pierced Dean instead. He wondered if Dean was picking up _fat old guys_ still. He didn't want to ask.

Regardless of all that, Gavin appreciated that Dean was surrounded by dog people. The girls at the animal shelter were all proper dog lovers and he enjoyed meeting them, even though they all assumed straight away that Dean had finally found himself a boyfriend.

"Tall, dark, and handsome, great choice!" he overheard one of them whispering to Dean during his first visit. Gavin pretended he hadn't heard, while Dean shushed and blushed and denied, although clearly none of the girls believed him.

And then there was Aunt Pearl. Gavin didn't set out to meet her, but he arrived at the grooming shop late one afternoon to see Dean only to find a middle-aged woman with blue-gray eyes and steely silver hair, clipping a sleek red setter.

"Can I help you?" she asked, looking at Lulu rather than Gavin. He realised swiftly that this must be Pearl, as in _Pearl's Pooch Parlor;_ Dean's aunt.

"I was looking for Dean," Gavin muttered, vaguely embarrassed. Lulu wagged her stubby black tail enthusiastically.

"He'll be upstairs." Pearl didn't blink, or ask questions, just nodded toward a flight of stairs in the corner and turned her attention back onto the setter.

Gavin walked past the _Staff Only_ sign and headed up the steps. They was steep and he felt his left shoulder stiffen on the third step with the effort; he took it slow, Lulu at his heels. Halfway up he heard a bark, then the door above him opened and J.R.'s brown fluffy muzzle was there to greet him, with Dean smiling right behind.

"Hey, Gavin," Dean greeted him. "Welcome to my humble abode. Hi, Lulu!"

Somehow Gavin had only been expecting an office. Although there was an office to the left of the stairs, with a large desk covered in haphazard paperwork visible through a doorway, on the other side was another door and through there was a studio apartment. He turned his head to the right to see fully.

"So this is where you live!" Gavin realised.

It was small enough to see in one sweeping glance. Although Gavin could glimpse a separate bathroom, and of course the whole place had the benefit of plumbing and electrical appliances like a microwave, toaster oven and coffee-maker, the living space was not actually hugely bigger than his camper van. A comfy-looking sofa clearly doubled as a bed. There was a chunky TV and stereo system, and a tiny kitchenette off to the side; the other prominent feature was J.R.'s basket in the corner.

"This is me," Dean said with pride. "Do sit down. Coffee?" Without waiting for a reply he headed to the kitchenette and hit a button on a machine. "Aunt Pearl let me live here the first time I came to stay with her, when I was only sixteen. I came back a few times, as often as Mom and Dad would let me, until they let me stay."

"Pearl lives somewhere else," Gavin hazarded, sitting down on the sofa.

"Yeah, she's got a house out of town, needs a big garden, she's got five dogs. Big 'uns, too, not like J.R. here," Dean chatted on. "She's not got much time for folk with two legs rather than four, but she's a cool person. So long as I'm there for work when I should be, and groom the dogs well, she doesn't mind what I do."

Dean talked a little more about his family while making coffee, and asked after Gavin's. Gavin muttered a bit about Mom and Dad back in Arizona, but preferred to hear about Dean's multiple brothers and sisters, all of whom had apparently stayed resolutely close to home in Vermont.

"I'm the only one who really flew the nest, early as I could," Dean confided. "But then, I was always the rebellious child. Dropped out of school--I got my GED later. Couldn’t hold down a job that wasn't dog-related. Couldn't find myself a girlfriend--'course, they didn't know why."

"They still not know?" Gavin couldn't help asking.

Dean shrugged. "We've never talked about it. Milk? Sugar?"

After coffee they went out for a beer. Dean excused himself briefly first to get ready, which apparently meant changing his shirt and adding a couple of tiny decorative purple crystal endpieces to the steel pole he wore through his eyebrow. Gavin was entranced; the pole was always plain while Dean worked in the shop.

"I got all sorts." Dean saw the direction of Gavin's gaze and showed him a small tray with a sprinkling of decorative endpieces, rather like cufflinks at a glance. Black and white dice, sinister white skulls, smiling yellow faces. There were also a few different shaped barbells; curved ones, horseshoe-shaped rings.

"What's with the eyebrow piercing?" Gavin asked, emboldened later after a second beer. "How long have you had it?"

"Since I was fifteen." Dean lifted a hand to pluck self-consciously at the tiny piece of metal. "I was a terrible teen. An earring would have been too boring. I was scared of getting a tongue or nose stud--I had asthma as a kid and I didn't want anything that might interfere with breathing. So an eyebrow piercing seemed like a cool alternative."

"Your Mom and Dad let you?"

"No, but when they said no, I came home from school one day and stuck a staple through my eyebrow."

"Fuck!" Gavin couldn't imagine doing such a thing.

"Yeah," Dean agreed solemnly. "They hit the roof. I was grounded for months. But they decided it showed I was determined, and when I was sixteen they let me get it done properly."

"It's cool," Gavin assured him, and Dean blushed behind his beaming grin.

* * *

Dean liked Gavin a lot, and he thought Gavin liked him too, but somehow he couldn't quite bring himself to make an advance. He lost count of the times he revved himself up to say, _hey Gavin, wanna fuck?_ only to chicken out. 'Cause, what if Gavin said no? What if he got back in that cute little camper van and drove off, and Dean never saw him again?

And Dean had no idea how else to show interest, so he guessed it was better to just be friends for now, and hopefully Gavin would stick around. Dean supposed maybe they were kind of dating, but he had no experience of dating (apart from the dreadful blind dates with college boys, ugh), and this wasn't like that.

A few times Dean thought about getting dressed up and heading out to the parking lot to get laid. The lure was strong; the desire to get himself well and truly banged by some pleasantly anonymous guy with a big dick had been a constant in his life for a long time, he was used to gratifying it when he fancied, celibacy wasn't his thing at all. But... he didn't want to risk bumping into Gavin there. Again. He didn't _think_ Gavin was still going there, but he couldn't be sure...

Gavin was the strong, silent type, of course. Didn't chat about boyfriends. Wouldn't say a word about his life in the Marines. He'd talk a bit about Mom and Dad back home in Arizona, not a lot, just enough to confirm Dean's impression that they were a cold-hearted set of parents with no redeeming features except giving Lulu to Gavin.

Even though he knew he had a lot to learn, Dean was still completely shocked by a revelation in the parlor one afternoon.

Gavin was looking at some grooming products on a side shelf; Dean was perched on a stool behind the counter, slightly behind to Gavin's left. Wanting to attract his attention without disturbing J.R., who was snoring under the counter, Dean waved, but Gavin didn't respond. He tried again, whirling his arm wide; Gavin didn't turn.

Dean said, "Hey," quietly, but Gavin didn't respond to that either.

Puzzled, Dean upped his voice a couple of notches. "Hey!" Gavin twitched his head slightly, then jumped and turned.

"Hey," he said. "Sorry. I can't hear out of this ear, y'know." He raised a hand to his left ear.

"Really?" Dean blinked.

"No. Can't see out of this eye, either," Gavin added, indicating his left eye, and now Dean was completely bowled over.

" _Really!_ I would never have guessed."

"That's good," Gavin said with a touch of humor. "I've gotten used to it. Doesn't affect 'most anything. Driving, watching TV, anything." Pause. "Maybe I can't shoot quite as well as I used to."

Dean was torn between wanting to ask lots of questions and not wanting to intrude. Gavin decided things for him by saying briskly, "Gotta be going. I'll see you tomorrow? Lulu!"

Alone in the shop, Dean pondered the situation, his head so full of queries he couldn't make sense of his thoughts.

A few moments later, the door opened and a regular customer ran into the shop: a small white Westie pup. Dean duly welcomed Hector, and then remembered what Hector's owner, standing there smiling at him, did for a living.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Wilson, good to see you, and Hector. How's Mrs Wilson?"

"Bonnie is good, thank you, she's staying with her mother this weekend." Dr. Wilson glanced around and gestured at the man who'd come in with him, who was standing, looking around, and scowling. "This is a friend of mine, Greg House, visiting for a couple days."

"Just leave the dog, Wilson, and we can get outta here," the man snapped.

Charming. Dean ignored that, and came to what was on his mind, "Dr. Wilson, you're a medical doctor, right?"

"That's right. I'm a resident oncologist up at Mass Gen." Wilson looked self-deprecating. "House is a doctor, too. Why?"

"Do you mind if I ask you something?" Without waiting for an answer, Dean rolled on. "A friend of mine is blind in one eye and deaf in one ear, on the same side. What kind of thing might have caused that?"

"Um, well, lots of things." Wilson frowned. "Has he been like that since birth?"

Dean remembered what Gavin had said: _I've gotten used to it._ "No, I don't think so. I think maybe it happened in the last few years."

"Why don't you just ask him what happened?" Wilson asked in a kindly manner.

Good question. "It's... complicated."

"If it's the guy with the black poodle we just passed outside on the sidewalk, it was probably a military injury," House butted in.

Dean was overwhelmed. "Um... yes, that's him. How did you know I was talking about him? And how did you know he was in the military?"

House's grin was definitely smug. "The poodle ran up behind him on his left hand side, but he didn't see it at first, had to look around further than a regular person would. I figured he was a Cyclops straight away."

Wilson winced. "House!"

"And he gave himself away with every step, the military bearing." House pulled himself bolt upright and gave a mock salute. "What was he, army, air force--"

"Marines."

"Fucking marines. Should have guessed." House sounded disgusted. "Well, TBI's gotta be likely."

"TBI?" Dean had no idea what this meant.

"Traumatic brain injury," Wilson amplified. "An external mechanical injury to the brain. Can be a penetrative injury where the brain is physically affected, or a closed injury where there's no outward damage at all. Usually caused by car accidents, sports, that kind of thing. Some kind of military activity could certainly cause it."

"Blast waves alone could do it, bomb or gun going off near his head," House contributed. "Or he could have been hit by something. He was carrying his backpack on his right shoulder only, even though it looked heavy--maybe his left shoulder got hurt at the same time."

"Yeah," Dean said slowly, thinking how awkwardly Gavin moved at times. "I think you're right."

House and Wilson left Hector for his shampoo, and Dean promptly forgot all about them as he plopped Hector in the bathtub, turned on the shower hose, and thought about Gavin, wondering what on earth had happened to cause such a TBI.


	3. The Black Dog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: The story of Gavin and Dean. Part 3: Dean finds out more about Gavin and is shocked all over again.
> 
> Excerpt: "In the Marines, I was in the K-9 corps," Gavin went on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My two favorite doctors push their way in again.

Chris was stretched out full-length on the couch, half-asleep, when he heard the front door open, then slam, and a shout of, "Hey!" 

Edward was home: Chris felt his whole body hum and vibrate with pleasure and anticipation.

"How were the Dog Couple?" Chris called, stretching out his arms.

"Good." Edward came into the living room, unwinding a long scarf from his neck. "But they're very cramped living in that shop. They've got a nice idea for an extension on the back, new room with a glass ceiling where the dogs can play, could be lovely. I said I'd do some sketches for them."

"Uh huh." Chris watched as Edward dropped his coat carelessly on the back of a chair and let his scarf puddle onto the floor. Chris didn't mind (much), because it was Edward.

"But they really need to open for business first and start earning some money, recoup what they've already put into the shop, before they start expanding," Edward continued. He dropped a kiss on Chris's lips, then pushed his glasses up his nose and perched on the edge of the couch. "I met Doris!"

"Uh?"

"The puppy. All white and fluffy, like a big cottontail. So cute! She's very young and she's not well--gastritis, something she ate--so they're keeping her inside for a while."

"Lovely." Chris couldn't get enthusiastic about a puppy, however cute.

"I said we'd see them at Linus's party next week," Edward concluded. "Gavin and Dean, that is, not the dogs. They must be a couple, by the way. You don't own poodle puppies with your business partner, surely."

"I guess not," Chris agreed, and reached up to pull Edward down toward him. They necked for a minute, then Edward hoisted himself onto the couch, lying full-length on top of Chris. Chris felt a hard-on stir immediately. He pulled Edward closer--

_"Atchoo!"_

Goddammit! Suddenly his nose was running. Edward's face above him blurred as his eyes started to stream.

"I'm so sorry! I must have fur on me. Doris kept licking me." Edward practically hurled himself away from Chris, rolling off the couch and onto the floor. "I'll go take a shower. Don't go anywhere."

"Um." Chris reached for a handkerchief and blew his nose, watching Edward disappear in the direction of the bathroom. His annoyance at the interruption was tempered by the prospect of a freshly-showered Edward. Indeed, a showering Edward...

Chris decided to give Edward a few minutes head start to get rid of that fur, then join him.

* * *

After the revelation in the grooming parlor, Dean spotted it every time he met Gavin. A strong preference for his right side, over and over again, and a marked reluctance to do stuff with his left. He _could_ do things on the left, but he chose not to. Dean had already noticed that Gavin held a leash on his right, but now he saw it wasn't just that. Whether carrying a bag, shouldering a door open, or cradling a needy J.R., it was done on the right side.

Dean found his usual inquisitive nature balked at finding out what had caused this. He really did not dare ask Gavin what had cost him his sight, his hearing, and a part of his mobility and flexibility on one side.

Inevitably, it was a dog that got Gavin to open up. Dean and Gavin had come to the animal shelter to take some dogs for a walk one day, when they met one of the vets leading an elderly German Shepherd into a pen.

"Owners couldn't afford to take him to a vet," the vet said sadly. "Dumped him here, hoping we could help. Lymphoma. Poor guy."

"Oh no." Dean came into the pen, petted the dog on the head, and felt for the lumps under his neck.

"Cancer? Can you do anything?" Gavin asked, and there was a slight tremor in his voice. He didn't come into the pen, but stayed at a distance outside.

"I'm afraid not," said the vet. "It's been left untreated too long. All we can do is help him pass on without too much more pain."

Dean hugged the dog, who licked his face. It was sad, but there were a lot of sad stories around the shelter. Dean hoped he hadn't grown immune to it all, but you just couldn't give every dog a happy ending.

He looked around, and Gavin had vanished. Surprised, Dean exchanged a few more words with the vet, then went to find out where his friend had gone.

He found Gavin sitting out in the parking lot, leaning on the wheel of his camper van. For a second Dean thought he was about to drive away, but no; Lulu was still outside on the grass, tethered on a long leash and occupied with a rubber bone. Dean hesitated, then went around to the passenger side, and sat down next to Gavin.

"I had a German Shepherd once," Gavin said, apropos of nothing.

"Really, oh, wow," Dean said inadequately.

"In the Marines, I was in the K-9 corps," Gavin went on.

"You worked with dogs?" Dean was both delighted and disbelieving.

"Yeah, I worked with MWDs, Military Working Dogs. Went out to the Gulf after Desert Storm." Gavin closed his eyes. "Bruce was my dog. He was an Explosives Detection Dog. He could sniff out explosives better than any dog I ever knew. He loved it."

This story was not going to end well, Dean could already tell. He sat very still, not wanting to disturb Gavin's flow.

"We were clearing a road that had been mined, we were all kitted up and everything was going just fine, when suddenly... a stray dog came out of nowhere on the left, hurtled down a bank and onto the road." Gavin swallowed hard. "Mad dog--foaming at the mouth--there were loads of strays like that around. And it happened so quick that there was nothing anyone could do..."

Dean could not imagine.

"The mad dog hit the road and a mine went off, there was a huge explosion--BAM--caught me clean on the left hand side." Gavin gripped the steering wheel as if his life depended on it. "Next thing I knew, I was lying on the ground and my leg was all crumpled up, and my shoulder hurt like nothing on earth. Fucking hell, it hurt so much I stopped feeling it after a few seconds. Like I just had to blot it out or I'd have blacked out. There was noise and dust and debris and chaos everywhere, other people hurt too, some real bad, and Bruce..."

This could not be good. Dean reached out and put a hand on Gavin's arm, and waited.

"I couldn't see him at first--couldn't see a thing to that side, didn't know at the time I'd lost _this_ and _this_." Gavin gestured at his left eye, then his left ear. "Then I turned my head, and he was right there. Jesus Christ, I wish he'd been killed by the blast. But he wasn't, he was looking up at me in... in that trusting way dogs do...."

Dean felt tears welling up.

"And... his head was perfect but his body... his front legs were a bloody mess... and he didn't have any back legs at all... I knew right then there was nothing to be done, so I shot him." Silence. "I killed him."

"You had to do it," Dean fumbled for words, so full of anguish he didn't know what to say, except that he had to reassure Gavin. "You did the right thing."

"Yeah." Gavin's tone was entirely neutral. "Anyway, that was the end of my career. They shipped me out with a broken leg and a massive piece of rock in my arm, the wound went septic. They told my family I probably wouldn't make it..."

 _Oh God oh God oh God._ It must have been terrible.

"But I did make it, spent months recuperating. I was very lucky. I had friends and colleagues who lost arms and legs and worse. Me--the leg healed, the arm not fully, as you know, but I didn't lose it. But this and this--" indicating his eye and ear again-- "meant I couldn't serve again. So they discharged me."

Dean tried to think what it might be like, coming back to the civilian world after such an experience. "Did you... see a shrink?"

"Yeah, fat lot of good that did." Gavin waved a dismissive hand. "He wanted to find out how losing an eye and an ear affected my sense of self. So I told him I was fine, I could still see and hear. He didn't ask about how I felt when I had to shoot my dog."

Pause.

"'Course, I didn't actually tell him about it. You're the first person I've told."

Any sense of privilege at that was heavily tempered by responsibility. Dean both did and didn't want to be Gavin's first confidante. He had no idea what to say now, for a start.

"Could you take Lulu for a walk with the other dogs?" Gavin asked, to Dean's surprise. "I need to be on my own for a while. I'll go park down by the harbor."

Gavin had a favored parking spot down by the ocean, near washroom facilities for campers, and a short stroll from a convenience store.

"Of course," Dean said humbly. Anything. He got out of the van, took Lulu into the shelter, and harnessed her up with a small group of other dogs. J.R. joined them, running free. They went on a circuitous route through forest and then down in a wide arc around the shore.

All kinds of thoughts assailed Dean's mind as he walked, guiding the dog pack gradually in the direction of Gavin's parking spot. What if Gavin wasn't there when they got there? What if he'd just driven off into the sunset? Dean had no contact details for him, no way of getting in touch.

Or... what if Gavin had asked him to take Lulu because.... he was going to end it all? Shoot himself, he must have a gun... or fill the van up with carbon monoxide perhaps...

He'd never do anything like that if Lulu might get hurt. But Dean would look after Lulu...

Any sense of relief Dean might have felt when they got to the van to find Gavin there and alive, evaporated when he found Gavin lying very still on his side on the bunk, blankets pulled up around his head.

"Hey, we're here, we all had a nice long walk," Dean announced, throwing open the side door to let in light. Lulu hopped in, all hanging tongue and wagging tail. Gavin stuck a hand out to touch her head briefly, then withdrew it again.

"Thanks," he muttered. "Bye."

Dean lingered for a minute, but could see that if Gavin barely responded to Lulu he wasn't going to respond any better to Dean. He left and returned the dog pack to the shelter.

He came back the next day, to find Gavin in bed again, indeed, looking like he hadn't moved an inch since yesterday. Dean took Lulu for a walk again with J.R., and gave her some food, but in truth he suspected Lulu had been fed alright; Gavin just wasn't bothering to feed himself.

This was bad, and Dean didn't know what to do.

* * *

A couple of days later, Dean was doing paperwork at the reception desk, when a tall, scruffy, unshaven man strode in, carrying a hot dog in one hand and dragging a white Westie on a lead with the other. 

Dean recognised Hector well before the man. Ah... it was Dr. Wilson's friend who had come in the shop that time before. The other doctor. Dean wasn't good with people's names, but he remembered that one because it was weird. House, that was right.

"Hey," Dr. House said brightly, leaning on the counter. "Shampoo and set. The dog, not me."

"Um, Mrs Wilson brought Hector in only a couple days ago." Dean picked Hector up and set him on the counter. Hector sat down and panted happily as Dean scratched him under the chin. His glossy white coat was still clean and shiny.

"I think you'll find he needs another wash." House tilted the hot dog in his hand, and a large mixed blob of ketchup and mustard slid off and onto Hector's back. Hector yipped indignantly; Dean grabbed a cloth, but too late; Hector shook himself, and suddenly there were red and yellow sauce spots everywhere.

"Okay, okay, you win!" Dean grabbed Hector hastily, put him in a bath and turned the shower hose on. 

House leaned on the counter and said meditatively, "So, did you find out how Cyclops lost his eye?"

Dean envisaged House kidnapping Hector from the Wilsons' backyard in order to bring him here to ask the question. "Uh, yeah, I did."

"And?" House asked, but was interrupted by the tinkle of the door bell. Dr. Wilson, pink-faced and sweating. 

"House, what the hell do you think you're doing? Bonnie is furious! You took Hector!"

"Oh dear," House said with blatantly false concern. "But he just followed me."

"He only followed you because you gave him _my_ hot dog!" Wilson threw up his hands.

"I can't help it if your stupid dog has cannibalistic tendencies." House was dismissive. "So, Pooch Parlor Pal--"

 _"Dean!"_ Wilson corrected.

"--your mad-eyed military man. What happened?"

"It was like you guessed," Dean admitted sadly as he turned off the shower hose. "A mine exploded on his left side and injured his eye and ear and arm on that side."

"Not guessed, deduced," House said, a trifle smugly.

Dean picked up a towel and started to dry Hector off. He realized that once again, he had two doctors in the room and a medical query. "I'm worried about him. Ever since he told me about it, he's gone all quiet, he spends almost all day in bed. He hardly even gets up to look after Lulu, his poodle who you saw. What's wrong with him? What should I do?"

House and Wilson looked at each other, and House said, "The Black Dog."

"Lulu?" Dean didn't understand.

"Depression," Wilson amplified. "Sometimes called the Black Dog."

"It's associated with Winston Churchill, but it's got a much longer history." House pontificated. "Black dogs have traditionally been harbingers of evil in mythology and popular folklore. Bet that black poodle of his doesn't know that. Samuel Johnson used the black dog metaphor to describe his melancholia."

"Your friend should go see a doctor," Wilson advised. "There may be medicine that could help, or perhaps counselling or psychiatric treatment. It's different for everyone."

"I don't think he'll go to a doctor," Dean said dolefully. "Is there anything I could do?"

"Nope," said House. "He needs drugs."

"I'm sure as long as he knows you're there for him, that will help," Wilson said with a reproving glance at House. "Maybe you can try and take his mind off what happened. Give him something new to think about, help him not dwell on the past."

Dean nodded slowly. That sounded... Possible. 

"Or get him drugs," House had the last word.

* * *

Several identical days passed before Dean found something to break the pattern, and he was proud of his ingenuity. He came to the van straight from a shift at the animal shelter, hailing Gavin as he opened the side door; "Hey! I've got a present for you."

"Don't want a present." Gavin, face down in bed, sounded listless.

Dean ignored this, crouched down and put a squirming, silky, little bundle of white fur down on the pillow next to Gavin's face.

"You can't sucker me with a puppy." Gavin didn't move.

 _Oh can't I._ "She was dumped at the shelter last night, Gavin, the rest of the litter died, she's the only survivor and she really needs looking after. I said I'd take her for a few days, she's too small to leave on her own in a cage, she needs to be fed every few hours from a bottle. You don't have to do anything. I just thought you'd like to say hello."

The puppy squeaked and scrambled on the pillow with tiny paws, inching towards Gavin's head. Gavin shifted slightly to avoid crushing her, and as soon as she came inside his field of vision his eyes widened.

"What... is she a poodle?"

"A cross, like J.R. The vet thinks she's a poodle crossed with something like a Pomeranian, a Pomapoo they're called."

"Pomapoo my ass!" But Gavin reached up and put a hand on her fur. She squeaked again and rolled over onto her back.

"Maybe you can just keep her warm for a bit," Dean said, and tactfully vanished.

* * *

Two days later, Gavin was alive again, and he and the Pomapoo were inseparable.

She was christened Doris, after a comment by Dean that she had a Doris Day-style white-blonde hairdo. Having discovered that Gavin wasn't eligible to adopt her from the shelter (falling down at the first hurdle, as he didn't have a permanent local address), Dean adopted her in his name instead, and took some pleasure in claiming a share of the caregiving.

Gavin's lifestyle was challenged by Doris's arrival. She needed a lot more care than Lulu did, and despite being a fraction of the size, seemed to require twice as much space. Gavin took to playing with her in the backyard at _Pearl's Pooch Parlor_ where she could be outside but secure and safe, and Lulu could also romp around, with J.R. for company. The camper van spent increasing amounts of time by the roadside out back.

It was nice having Gavin around so close to home. Dean's fear that the van might just vanish one day gradually dissipated.

He still wasn't frequenting the parking lot. The enforced celibacy was starting to niggle.

And then a thunderstorm hit late one evening.

* * *

Dean had worked a long couple of days in the shop, as Aunt Pearl was away. Exhausted by nine PM, he was up in his apartment, flipping through a magazine and thinking idly about going to bed. J.R. had had a tiring afternoon running around with Lulu in the backyard, and was already snoring in his basket.

Thunder suddenly boomed overhead, and rain hit so quickly Dean got wet even as he scrambled over to close the window. Wow! Safely behind glass, he peered outside. The rain was pelting so hard he could hardly see a thing, and it was getting dark but... he thought Lulu was still outside in the backyard. Huh, the camper van would be full of wet poodle tonight!

Five minutes later, the doorbell rang, and a voice hollered from outside, _"Dean!"_

Dean rushed downstairs, J.R. loping sleepily behind, to find a drenched man and a sopping wet poodle on his doorstep.

"Emergency," Gavin said without preamble, stepping inside. "Lulu came in the van and shook herself, and now everything's wet. Everything. Then Doris fell out the door and into a puddle. She might catch her death of cold--"

"Of course, come in," Dean said redundantly, closing the front door behind them. Lulu shook herself again, and droplets of water hit J.R., who whined with annoyance. "Here, lemme--"

He reached forward to take Doris, whose nose was poking out from under Gavin's jacket. As he put his hand inside Gavin's jacket he felt snug warmth, and instead of lifting Doris out he curled his hand about her, cradling her against Gavin's arm. And then Gavin reached up with his free hand to stroke the steel barbell in Dean's eyebrow, and his hand was damp but warm, his fingertips calloused but his touch feather-light.

"Dean," he muttered.

"Gavin," Dean whispered, and then their mouths met, and _Oh God._ Dean wasn't used to being kissed. Not like this; tender, passionate, with someone who wasn't twenty years older than him and with a name he actually knew. Gavin tasted hot and wet, and his stubble rasped against Dean's cheek.

Dean felt damp dog pushing up against his legs: he lifted Doris and stepped backwards reluctantly. He dried Doris off carefully and her placed in a cardboard box, surrounded by cushions and every possible chew toy, whlie Gavin toweled Lulu down and settled her on a snug rug. J.R. was settled up again in his basket, but downstairs in the shop this time.

And _then_ Gavin and Dean went upstairs, lying together necking on Dean's sofa bed for a while, hands exploring under shirts and down pants, each with a slightly nervous ear out for the sound of unhappy dogs downstairs. When no such noise was forthcoming, they both started to relax, and enjoy.

It didn't take much. The first touch of Gavin's cock, hot flesh pressing up against his own considerable hard-on, was almost enough on its own. Dean gasped into Gavin's neck and stuck a hand down the back of Gavin's pants, groping at hips and ass, and pressed again. Gavin groaned heavily and came; this brought Dean over the edge too, and weeks of self-imposed celibacy came spilling out.

* * *

Gavin woke from stupor a short while later to find himself being kissed. Gavin wasn't used to being kissed; he was more accustomed to the feel of lips around his cock than on his mouth. Dean's smooth skin and soft lips were a great novelty.

"Hey, Gavin." Dean's voice was quiet and breathy into his good ear. "Fuck me. Please. From behind."

Gavin was startled at the direct request. He didn't want to say no, exactly, but... Dean wasn't even stretched. "You sure?"

"Yeah. Do it. Now."

Well, all right then. The very words _fuck me_ had rocketed Gavin back to full erection anyway. He groped on the floor for his discarded pants, finding a condom in his wallet, and rolled it on quickly. Dean meanwhile had assumed a position on all fours, knees on the floor, elbows on the sofa bed.

It was surely too quick. Gavin tried to demur: "I don't want to hurt you--"

"You won't. Just do it."

He wasn't gonna argue the point any more. Gavin levered himself in, and huh, Dean was tight alright, but not completely un-stretched after all: he must've prepped himself. Gavin started to thrust, and Dean gasped and moaned, "Oh yeah--more, harder, more." 

Gavin's mind jumped to their meeting in the parking lot; so this was the kind of thing Dean had been pursuing with Cowboy Hat guy. Quick and rough ass-fucking.

No point dwelling on that now. Hard fast fucking pulled everything else from Gavin's mind, until the universe exploded in a whirl of light and color.

* * *

Dean was woken by the front door slamming downstairs. Light streamed through the curtains: it was morning and Aunt Pearl was back. He panicked for a few seconds, thinking he should have opened up the shop by now, before remembering it was Sunday and they were closed,

"Dean! Got some news," a voice hollered up the stairs and through the door.

"I'll be down in a minute," Dean shouted back, and looked at Gavin. There was no point trying to pretend he was on his own; Lulu was right there downstairs. Gavin shrugged, and they both got dressed.

Dean knew he looked post-coital, but he also knew Aunt Pearl wasn't likely to notice. He pulled on jeans and toed on sneakers as he loped down the stairs and into the reception area, to find his aunt clipping the nails of one of her Great Danes on the counter. There were distant barks from the backyard, where she had presumably let J.R. and Lulu out. Doris was wriggling around in her box by the counter, absorbed with a chew toy.

"'Morning," Dean said chirpily. "Did you have a nice weekend, Aunt Pearl?"

"Yeah. I went to New Jersey," Pearl said, and Dean blinked in surprise. "You remember Linus."

"Um, yeah." Only too well. "You went to see him? How is he?"

"Same as ever," Pearl said. "He had a business proposition. Expand _Pearl's Pooch Parlor's_ empire from Boston to New Jersey. He invited me down to see a grooming parlor up for sale, in his neighborhood. The current owner's retiring. I get first refusal."

"Oh!" Dean perched on a stool and frowned, assimilating this unexpected information.

"It's a good place," she went on. "Run down. Nothing that can't be fixed. Not far from the beach. Big garden out back."

"You'd move to New Jersey?" He couldn't imagine it. His aunt and her five dogs were very entrenched in her house and set in their routines.

"No," said Pearl. "I thought maybe you'd want to move down and manage it for me."

"Oh!" This.... was massive! Suddenly Dean's brain was whirling so fast he couldn't keep up. Move to New Jersey? Manage his own parlor?

Why not? He knew how this place was run. And, be the manager! Maybe he could get a bigger apartment. Maybe he'd get more autonomy.... more responsibility..... more money...

He'd miss the shelter, and his girl friends, but J.R. wouldn't mind a change of scenery. And as for Gavin, well, Gavin was mobile, he lived in a camper van--

"Thought maybe you could invest in it too, if you wanted," Pearl went on. "Linus'll stake me, like with this place, he says it's a good going concern. But if you wanted to put some money up--"

"I haven't got any money," Dean admitted dolefully. He'd never been able to save, always lived in the now and spent what he had. He didn't earn a lot in the parlor, his salary took into account the apartment he got rent-free--Aunt Pearl didn't charge him a nickel, never had--and the dollars he earned were quickly splurged on clothes or dog treats or an eyebrow accessory.

"I have," said a new voice, and Dean turned in surprise to see Gavin, standing at the bottom of the stairs.

"Really?" Dean stuttered.

"Payoff from the Marines," Gavin's voice was even gruffer than usual. "Just sitting in a bank account doing nothing."

"And you'd invest it.... in _me_?"

"Maybe," Gavin rasped. "Lemme see the place first."

"Can do." Pearl snapped off a particularly large piece of Great Dane nail. "Welcome to the family business. We'll talk later, when I'm done with this fellow."

Gavin turned and went back upstairs, and Dean crept after him.

"Gavin, that's just awesome," he babbled, once they were back in his apartment. "I don't know what to say."

"Nothing to say." Gavin shrugged. "Always wanted to go to New Jersey. Why not have a reason."

"We'll go. We can go anytime." Dean was excited.

And his excitement was only tempered by the thought that at some point, he would have to tell Gavin about Linus. 

Dean resolved to put _that_ off as long as possible.

END OF PART 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The Black Dog: http://www.blackdoginstitute.org.au/docs/McKinlay.pdf


	4. A Yapping Doris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: The story of Gavin and Dean. Part 4: we learn how Dean met Linus, many years ago. Gavin doesn't react well.
> 
> Excerpt: "The fact is, Edward dear, Gavin is never going to forgive me for taking the young teenage Dean's virginity," Linus said, and Chris choked on his drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Linus/Dean flashback in this part takes place during the time of [Chris and Linus part 2](https://archiveofourown.org/works/90342/chapters/122844), although Dean isn't mentioned in that.

_Linus's party, New Jersey_

Linus could always be counted on to throw a good party. Chris and Edward arrived a little late, to find lots of men and food and drink in circulation. Dean was sitting in the middle of the living room, chatting in a large group; they found Linus in the kitchen with his current stray cat, the delectable Philippe, and a smaller group of people, including Gavin.

"Hey. No dogs today?" Chris asked by way of greeting.

"Naw." Gavin swigged on beer. "J.R. and Lulu can keep each other company at home for a few hours. We got a neighbor to look after Doris for an evening, old Mrs Morrison who used to run the shop. She still lives down the road. She loves Doris."

"Who doesn't! How's the shop?" Edward asked.

"Opened last week." Gavin brightened. "We've been getting a lot of interest. More than I thought, so quick. People who used the old place are coming back."

"I always knew there was a continuing market in the area," Linus butted in. "As soon as I heard Mrs Mo was retiring, I was right on the phone to Pearl asking if she wanted to expand into New Jersey."

"Yeah, betcha couldn't believe your luck in having an excuse to get Dean out of Boston," Gavin growled. 

Hmm. Chris glanced sideways at Edward, to find Edward similarly catching his eye.

Linus was never one to shirk from difficult subjects. "Gavin, dear--"

"I am not your _dear_."

"Gavin--you know I have no designs on your darling Dean." Linus slung an arm around Philippe's shoulder. Philippe arched his beautiful neck and smirked a little.

"Course not, not anymore," Gavin said witheringly. "He's too old for you these days."

_Ouch_. Linus opened his mouth and shut it again without saying anything. Gavin turned on his heel and left.

Edward stared around the group. "What just happened? Did I miss something?"

Everyone shuffled their feet and looked at the floor.

"The fact is, Edward dear, Gavin is never going to forgive me for taking the young teenage Dean's virginity," Linus declared, and Chris choked on his drink.

"Really?" Edward went slightly pink.

"Linus, honestly," Chris said with exasperation. "Yes, Edward, it's true. Can we change the subject now?"

"Goodness no," Philippe breathed with anticipation. "What happened? How long ago was it?"

"About five years ago, now. It was not my finest hour," Linus admitted.

* * *

The offer to put money into Pearl's Pooch Parlor's New Jersey venture had been spur of the moment, but as soon as Gavin had done it, it had seemed like fate. This was what that money had been waiting for. Gavin liked the idea of living in New Jersey and helping Dean run his own dog salon. And if he lost it all, so be it. He'd have spent it on dogs. Dean and dogs.

As they planned their new shop with Pearl, though, Gavin couldn't help but notice Dean had a nervous tic which came out at any mention of his aunt's business partner, the guy called Linus who'd suggested this whole thing in the first place. Dean would start blinking madly, laugh and change the subject. 

Gavin put it down to a crush, initially; figured this Linus guy must be a hunk who'd turned Dean's head. 

Then they arrived in New Jersey, and the moment Gavin saw Linus he remembered Dean's supposed sexual preference for _fat old guys_. Linus was overweight and had to have ten years on Dean, probably. Not being either fat or old himself, Gavin had conveniently forgotten about Dean's preference. Insecurity suddenly hit.

Linus met them at the shop, all smiles and congratulations on their purchase, promises to help with contacts, and wishing them luck. He only stayed five minutes, and Dean put on a good front, but his blinking went into overdrive.

"What's with you and Linus?" Gavin asked abruptly as soon as they were alone, and Dean's cheeks colored.

"What do you mean?"

"You've got a history." Gavin hadn't realized he'd known that until he said it. "Stop dicking around and tell me."

Dean shuffled his feet, and spilled. "He was my first."

"Your first what?" But Gavin got it as he spoke. _"What!"_

"I was eighteen," Dean rushed on. "He was much older than me, and a man of the world... I was like a Doris, yapping around his heels, really."

* * *

* * *

* * *

_Boston, six years ago_

Looking back, Dean recognized he had been appallingly young and totally immature. But at the time, he'd been so sure he was all grown up and impatient to get on and _do_ stuff with his life. 

Mom and Dad, struggling to cope with a house full of kids, had decided to send their high-school dropout middle son to live with his Aunt Pearl for a while. After all, the only thing that engaged him was dogs, and she was the dog-mad one in the family, and she'd said she could always do with some help in her salon...

Dean was always happy to escape from stifling, small-town Vermont to cool, metropolitan Boston. Aunt Pearl let him live on his own in the tiny apartment above the grooming parlor, and so long as he helped out with the dogs, sweeping up fur and mopping floors, she didn't interfere. Nobody shouted at him for staying up late watching TV, or leaving his clothes on the floor. It was a blast. 

He'd been there a few months when Linus had come to visit. Dean had come back from a walk with J.R. to find a large man in a Hawaiian shirt sitting on a stool in the shop, chatting away to Aunt Pearl.

"Linus, this is my nephew Dean," Pearl did the introductions. "Dean, this is Linus, my business partner. He took a stake in the salon when I set it up."

"Cool." Dean shook hands, feeling grown up, pleased to be meeting Aunt Pearl's business partner. The man had a firm grip and and Dean thought Linus held his hand perhaps half a second longer than necessary.

"Delighted to meet you, Dean," Linus said. His gaze was penetrating. Dean realized with a gulp that he was being checked out. Fuck! Well, yeah, the guy probably was gay, wearing a that shirt, but... Dean had never been looked at that before. Not by a man. And Linus had to be at least... eight years older than him, Dean guessed. Maybe more.

But, why not? Dean was grown-up now too, with a job and his own apartment. Kind of. Dean swelled with pleasure and perched on the salon counter, listening as his aunt and Linus discussed some boring financial stuff, trying to look interested and knowledgeable while hoping he didn't get asked his opinion on anything.

It transpired that Linus lived in New Jersey, which explained why Dean hadn't seen him before. He'd been a student in Boston a few years' back, keen to get a career going, had come across Pearl struggling to get a bank loan to buy her own shop. Linus had put all the cash he had into it, sharing the risk by becoming a business partner. "A silent partner, that is; I know nothing about dogs."

"I think we've both done pretty well out of it over the years," Pearl opined.

"And you're staying with your aunt, Dean?" Linus asked. "Do you live nearby?"

"My parents live in Vermont, but I live here, above the shop." Dean was proud. 

"You crashed in the apartment upstairs once or twice, Linus, I think," Pearl remarked. "When we were setting up to open, you were helping."

"Indeed, I remember." Linus nodded. "Nice little pad you've got there, Dean. Are you at college, perhaps, around here?"

Dean was flattered, and wished he hadn't dropped out of high school. "No, I'm just working here, in the shop." He mentally resolved to look into doing the GED, not for the first time. 

There was a yelp from the backyard: Pearl's aged golden retriever, who wasn't in the best of health. Aunt Pearl got up and headed outside, leaving Dean and Linus alone.

"So how long are you here for?" Linus asked.

"Dunno really," Dean confessed. "I came here for the summer, but I like it here. I'd rather stay in Boston than go home. I'm eighteen now, I like working in the shop, there's nothing like it where I live, and there's an animal shelter I've been volunteering in too. I've got friends here too, now, who I wouldn't want to leave."

"Friends?" Linus's look was speculative. "Girlfriend?"

"No." Dean's denial was instant and heartfelt. He felt Linus was asking for a reason, and stumbled on, "I'm not really interested in girls."

Goodness. _Wow_. Dean could feel his heart thumping against his ribs, adrenalin pounding his stomach. He'd not said that to anyone before. He'd tried to hint to Mom, he'd never dared even hint to Dad. Aunt Pearl just never asked that kind of stuff...

"I empathize," Linus said with a sudden, wicked grin. He leaned back in his chair and flicked a wrist. "If you want to stay with your Aunt Pearl, Dean, I hope you get to stay. I'd be very happy to see more of you."

"Uh, thank you." Dean didn't know what to say to that.

Aunt Pearl returned at that moment, and conversation returned to more boring adult topics like inventory and profit margins. Dean was content to sit and feel part of the circle.

"I have to go," Linus looked at his watch ten minutes later. "My good friend Chris will be here any minute. We're going to a restaurant for dinner, then on to a bar."

"What restaurant?" Aunt Pearl asked.

"There's a well-reviewed steakhouse nearby that Chris wants to try. He owns a steakhouse himself, you know."

The bell over the door trilled as it swung open, and in came a fair-haired man in biking leathers. Dean immediately decided this one had to be gay too. Hang on a sec, was this a... _boyfriend?_ Dean struggled with the concept. He didn't think he'd ever met a gay man before, let alone two at once.

"Hey," said the newcomer.

"Chris, allow me to introduce you to the delightful Pearl of _Pearl's Pooch Parlor,_ " Linus declared. "And her lovely nephew who works here too, Dean."

"Hey, Pearl and Dean," Chris said, his lips twitching with amusement. "Pleased to meet you."

They all exchanged niceties, then Linus said they had to go, they had a table booked at the restaurant.

So they said goodbye and left, and Dean felt a hammer of unfairness knocking at his chest. He would have done anything to be going to the restaurant and bar with Linus and Chris. _Anything_. He imagined himself sitting at a table with them, swapping witty, urbane banter.

If only he wasn't too damned young and tagged as Pearl's nephew. It wasn't fair.

Aunt Pearl went home soon afterwards. Dean locked the shop door behind her and slouched upstairs to his room. J.R. sensed his master was glum and tried to cheer him up by bouncing a rubber ball off the walls, but Dean remained despondent. He didn't want to be home alone with his dog. He wanted to be out with the two grown-up sophisticated gay men he'd just met.

He realized only too well that to them, he was just a kid.

He went to bed early, much to J.R.'s disappointment. But the little dog soon settled down and fell asleep, while Dean stayed awake, looking at the ceiling.

\--He woke with a start as J.R. jumped on his stomach. "Oof! J.R.!"

J.R. was showing a lot of interest in the window and emitting a throaty growl. Dean rolled out of bed and peered out; there was a car parked outside the shop. And, hey, Chris was in the driver's seat, his window rolled down, while Linus stood on the sidewalk, leaning down to talk to him.

Dean hitched the curtain sideways a notch, careful not to make a noise. He strained his ear to try and hear the conversation. At his feet, J.R. trotted backwards and forwards along the window.

"--back to the hotel," Chris was saying.

"No, you go on, I'll see you there tomorrow," Linus said.

"If he doesn't let you in you'll be stuck out here on the street in the middle of nowhere," Chris protested.

"Oh leave him to his twink and let's go have fun," said a new voice, and Dean belatedly realized there was another man in the passenger seat. If he squinted he could see a hand on Chris's knee. Wow!

"Your new friend is very sensible," Linus said. "Go have fun. I'll take my chances here and see you back at the hotel in the morning."

"Don't say I didn't warn you." Chris rolled up the window, revved the engine, and drove away.

Linus stood watching them go, then turned, and rang the shop doorbell. J.R.'s growl turned into a bark.

"Hush," Dean said, falling over his own feet as he rushed to answer. He hurtled down the stairs and fumbled with the lock.

And there was Linus, looking a trifle sheepish. "My dear Dean, I wonder if I might impose--"

"Huh, yeah, sure," Dean gasped, incoherent as the ramifications of this midnight visit raced through his consciousness. He was the _twink?-_ -What was a twink, anyway? Linus had come back to him--to be with him--

Linus pushed the door shut behind him, and Dean stepped past to turn the lock shut. He had to stand right next to Linus to do so, and smelled fresh cologne and second-hand smoke and a touch of alcohol. And then Linus took a step even closer, and _Christ this couldn't be happening_ they were kissing.

So _this_ was what it was like, kissing a man; Dean trembled and shook and tried to remember every second: rough lips, stubble, a small bump of teeth, arms now embracing; the novelty of kissing someone taller than him, stronger than him, shoulder muscles flexing, that Hawaiian shirt silky smooth under his hands--

Hands running over his shoulders, and sliding now underneath his T-shirt. Dean was dimly embarrassed by the realization he was wearing an old crummy Batman T-shirt--he'd have never worn it out, he only wore it in bed, the idea someone might see him in it--be there in bed with him--

"Dean, my darling Dean," Linus sighed between his teeth, and Dean melted right there on the spot. 

In that second he knew he was up for this. He wanted to find out what the hell all this was like, and although he'd never imagined a man like this doing-- _it-_ -to him, it was okay.

"Shall we go upstairs to your room?" Linus went on, and Dean nodded dumbly. He took a moment to settle the startled J.R. into his basket behind the shop counter, and made sure all the doors were closed between the shop and his bedroom upstairs.

Linus went straight over to the sofa-bed; Dean followed, trembling with fearful anticipation, hoping he wasn't about to make a fool of himself. He was relieved that Linus took the lead, pulling him down onto the bed, kissing him, yeah, more kissing. Then, hands; hands roaming, under that Batman t-shirt (drat, don't think about that) and coming to rest on his groin. 

Man oh man. Linus sure knew what he was doing. Dean was putty and helpless in the hands of this man he'd met only hours ago, who was much older than him and with a belly on him Dean would have mocked in other circumstances. 

He would have come into Linus's capable fist, but a mixture of nerves and embarrassment held him back. A moment later, nerves were forgotten amidst searing ecstasy as Linus dropped his knees to the carpet and took him in his mouth. Dean had dreamed many of a time what this would be like, and to experience it - holy shit, it was like nothing on earth. He never wanted to end, but it did end tragically quickly,

"Sorry," Dean gasped inadequately as Linus rose to his feet, unbuckling his own belt.

"Nothing to be sorry about, my darling boy," Linus said briskly, dropping his pants. There was a truly scary looking bulge beneath. "Now if you'd honor me, I would love to explore that gorgeously pert little ass of yours."

It was both the world's best compliment and most terrifying request Dean could imagine. 

"There's something I should tell you," Dean blurted out. "I haven't done this before."

"Ah." Linus took a step backwards toward the stairs, doubt suddenly written large across his face. "Maybe I should go."

"What?" Dean was horrified at the thought he might have screwed this up. "No, no, don't go! I just thought... I should tell you."

"If you want me to be your first, Dean darling, then I will be only too pleased. But promise me if you want to stop, Dean, at any time, just say." 

"Sure." Dean resolved on the spot not to say a thing. He would let this play out. Find out what all the fuss was about. How bad could it be, anyway?

A little later, naked and quivering on the bed, he wasn't so sure. He tried to relax, but despite Linus's soothing voice and stroking hand, he just couldn't. How could he, with no clothes on and two fingers pushing up his ass? How could anyone relax in such circumstances?

"Try this," Linus murmured, and produced a small jar from a pants pocket. "Amyl nitrite. Have a sniff."

Dean sniffed obediently, and suddenly found he could relax after all. His whole body was one big relax. He felt the fingers again, but this time he took them in much more readily. Oh yeah. What was the fuss about? This was no problem at all.

And a minute later, he took Linus's cock without complaint, feeling it stiff and slick inside him, without pain, without tension, just oozing, trembling pleasure.

* * *

He woke to see Linus standing on the other side of the room, pants on, buttoning up his Hawaiian shirt. It was light, but early: Dean squinted at his alarm clock: 6:00 A.M.

"Hey," Dean mumbled, wondering if Linus had been going to sneak out without waking him.

"Ah, Dean darling, I was trying not to wake you," Linus said, thus confirming Dean's fear. "I have to get back to the hotel. Chris and I are leaving later this morning, and I have to get my stuff and check out of my room first."

Dean didn't want to ask, he really didn't, but he couldn't help it. "When will I see you again?"

Linus sighed. "I don't come to Boston very often, Dean; it's a lovely town, but I have reasons, baggage from my student days... I can't promise to be around any time soon."

_Then take me to New Jersey with you_. Dean swallowed the words, knowing they would only sound pathetic. Suddenly he didn't feel grown-up at all; except for the realization that this relationship wasn't going to go anywhere.

"Of course I'll be straight here when I do make it to Boston," Linus added, and Dean smiled a wintry smile, seeing this for the sop it was.

* * *

* * *

* * *

Gavin listened to the seduction story in silence. "And then what?" he asked at the end.

"And then nothing," Dean said dolefully. "Never saw him again. I spent the next couple of years shuttling back and forth between Mom and Dad and Aunt Pearl. Got my GED, learned how to groom dogs. Couldn't settle back home; kept ending up back with Aunt Pearl. I sometimes asked her for news of him, but I couldn't show too much interest."

Gavin pictured the teenage Dean, hoping vainly for some kind of contact, and was sad. "He never visited Boston?"

"Yes, but somehow never when I was around." Dean shrugged. "I got over it. Honestly. After a while. I met other people."

"He's the reason you used to hang around in parking lots waiting for fat old guys to come and fuck you," Gavin realized, and Dean covered his face with his hands. 

"I... I guess so. I wanted to remember what it was like... The longer time went on, the more I thought this wasn't ever going to happen to me again. Then one day someone left a flyer in the shop about a bar--a gay bar. I hadn't even known there was a place like that in the neighborhood --I spent forever getting up the courage to go--then when I did, I got hit on in the parking lot before I even tried to get in. Big guy in a colorful shirt. He reminded me of Linus. He... was a bit like Linus." 

Gavin read between the lines without difficulty. _He fucked you into a cheap motel mattress like Linus did: all fours, up the ass, wham bang thanks for nothing_. 

"I kept going back." Dean looked earnestly into Gavin's eyes. "But I haven't been back since I met you."

"C'm'ere," Gavin said gruffly, and pulled Dean in for a bear hug.

* * *

_Linus's party, New Jersey_

At the party, in the kitchen, the group listened to Linus in similar silence. 

Only Chris, who knew the story already, tuned out; he sucked on a cigarette and tried to remember how it had been B.E.--Before Edward, a long time before Edward. Chris remembered Linus pursuing Dean alright; remembered his friend's pathetic, mouth-watering desire for the young man only too well. 

But Chris had only the dimmest memory of the guy he'd picked up in the bar; they'd gone back to the hotel and enjoyed mutual blow-jobs, he recalled, but he wouldn't know the other guy now if he passed him on the street. God, it was so much better now, being with Edward.

"And that was that?" Edward asked, and Edward's voice drew Chris back into the present. Linus had finished the story. "You fucked him and you didn't see him again?"

"I'm afraid so," Linus confirmed dolefully.

Philippe snickered. "Linus, you are _such_ a bastard."

Linus raised both palms. "But it wasn't deliberate! I just never bumped into him the times when I did go to Boston. And then, now, this dog grooming opportunity came up, and I realised it would be perfect for Pearl. I was a bit surprised to find her nephew was still there after all this time, but he was all grown up, didn't seem to bear me any grudges, and he'd found his own man, Gavin." 

Edward nodded. "They make a good pair."

"But Gavin's never seen my good side. I should go and make things right," Linus sighed, and headed out of the kitchen. Chris wouldn't have followed, except that Edward did. Chris sighed too, stubbed out his cigarette and loped out of the room after Edward.

They found Gavin and Dean standing outside the back door.

"--don't want to go," Dean was saying. "We can't go, Linus threw this party for us! It would be terribly rude."

"Then stay," Gavin said shortly. "I'm not in the mood, knowing how he screwed you up."

"Gavin," Dean said, a groan in his voice. "Not this again! I wish I'd never told you."

"Darlings--" Linus intoned, moving toward them, and Gavin wheeled on the spot, swung back a fist and hit Linus square in the face.

"Hey!" Dean cried out ineffectually as Linus staggered backwards. Gavin pulled back his fist again, but by this time Chris was there; he grabbed Gavin's arm and hung on. _"_ No fighting! Cut it out!"

"Ziggy's around, and he'll be really pissed if he has to arrest everyone, and then bail them out too," Edward added.

That amused Chris, and it seemed to stop Gavin struggling. Chris was relieved; he really didn't want to get into a fight defending Linus against a hefty ex-Marine with a pretty good right hook. He let go of Gavin's arm, and Gavin stepped away. He was still visibly simmering, though.

"You're a disgusting old pervert," Gavin said to Linus. "You took advantage of him and helped yourself to his teenage ass. You should be ashamed of yourself."

"Gavin!" Dean was crimson.

"I'm not proud of it," Linus said, sounding considerably more dignified than he looked with blood seeping out of his nose. "But goodness, it was a long time ago, and we're all grown-ups, aren't we?"

"You were way older than him," Gavin stormed, and Chris tensed, fearing another punch. "You were _always_ fucking grown up. He was a kid in a Batman T-shirt."

"He was eighteen, as I recall, mature enough to have left school and be holding down a job, and quite old enough to consent." Linus mopped his nose with a too-small handkerchief.

"Gavin, Linus, please stop," Dean implored, but Gavin rolled on.

"He was working in his aunt's shop. You were her business partner. You were in a position of authority over him. And you gave him drugs. Of course he fucking well consented."

"Now that, if you will excuse my saying, is a load of bull," Linus tucked the handkerchief back into a pocket. "I know I should have resisted the temptation, but Dean was every bit as keen to have his cherry popped as I was to do it."

"Guys--" Edward tried to interrupt this time, but Gavin wasn't having it.

"And then you fucking well forgot about him. You took him and you dropped him like a ton of bricks. You're a fucking thoughtless bastard."

"I did not forget!" Linus put some indignation into his tone this time. "It just happened that way, that's all. I was very busy--"

"Stop, NOW!" Dean shouted, both hands high in the air. Both Gavin and Linus froze and looked at him.

"Linus, you were wrong, I didn't think so at the time but you s-s-shouldn't have done it." Dean stumbled over his words. "You did--hurt me, and it took me a long time to get over it. But Gavin, that's no reason to hit him, it's not necessary, it doesn't help. Please stop, both of you."

"Dean, darling, I am so sorry!" Linus took a half-step forward, then clearly thought it better to keep his distance. "Really I am. I was out of order. I do know that. Please do forgive me."

Dean nodded vigorously. "I do." 

"And Gavin, I am very sorry it's come to this, I do apologise to you too." Linus's tone rang with sincerity. "It's just too easy to look back through rose-colored spectacles and persuade oneself that everything was all right. Thank you for reminding me that it wasn't."

"Yeah." Gavin shook his head a little, apparently unwilling to verbally accept the apology, but disarmed by it.

"It is very easy to believe when you're young that stuff that happens to you is okay, and only find out later that it wasn't," Edward stepped in, both literally and metaphorically. "I know what I'm talking about."

Gavin and Dean looked both blank and curious, but Chris knew exactly what Edward was referring to; his abusive college ex, Preston. Linus knew too, and Chris watched somber realisation flicker across his face. Chris could feel a fist clenching in his chest, the way it always did when he heard about the shit Edward had been through. He mentally swore, again, that if he ever met Preston he would kill him.

"I was taken advantage of when I was eighteen, too, by someone older and more experienced. It took me years to realise how wrong it all was," Edward concluded, and spread his hands. "You get there in the end, and you move on. I'm just glad that I found Chris, and Dean, that you found Gavin."

"Yes, absolutely! Let's be friends now," Dean said hopefully.

"Yes, let's," LInus exclaimed, and stuck out a hand toward Gavin. Gavin extended his own arm slowly, and they shook. Dean beamed with relief, threw out his arms, and hugged first Gavin, then Linus, then Edward.

"I've started some designs for your extension, by the way," Edward said to Gavin and Dean.

"You're designing them an extension? What a marvelous idea," Linus exclaimed. "There's that perfect area of ground out back of the shop."

"Yeah, that's what we thought," Gavin muttered. "More room for the dogs. So what's it gonna be like, Edward?"

"Well..."

And Edward and Linus strolled off down the garden, Gavin walking between them, talking timber and glass and floorboards.

Chris stayed behind and watched, pleased that things had calmed down. Hopefully they wouldn't all end up in a police cell after all and Ziggy wouldn't get mad. Dean wandered over to Chris, all one big smile.

"He's such a good guy, your Edward," Dean bubbled.

"He certainly is--" Chris began, but felt his nose tickle as he spoke. He could feel fur floating off Dean's sweater and up his nasal passage. "Damnit, those dogs! _Atchoo!"_

END


End file.
